Workman: Chapter Five - Part Six

It felt very wrong.

My smooth, hairless arms, my soft fleshy body, my wide hips and round ass, the absurd bulges on my chest: I knew that this was who I’d been my whole life; who I was meant to be; but it still felt weird as hell. All the muscle definition was gone from my upper arms. My broad chest and shoulders had deflated into this tiny feminine frame.

I touched my face, looking at myself in the mirror, faintly repulsed by what I was seeing. I mean I was a good looking woman – it was a nice face and figure to look at, but it felt very weird to think I was inside there. I’d grown so used to being a man.

I missed my goatee. It had really improved my face. Now I just had smooth pale skin. It was odd. I looked so little and fragile.

I was still wearing the faun trousers, the v-necked T-shirt and trainers. My hair was tied back tightly and I wasn’t wearing make-up. This was all good. Girly clothes would have been far too much. Seeing the clothes made me realise how long I’d stayed a man. Except for the brief change back in the men’s room at the pub it had been twenty four hours. That was kind of staggering. But I still couldn’t see anything bad. Aside from a slight discomfort about being back in this soft puny body it had just been a good opportunity. There was no reason not to change back and forth as often as I liked.

Though it had been more gruelling to change back. Turning into a man last time had been relatively painless. Becoming a woman had been the opposite of that: really quite unpleasant.

I went upstairs and stripped off, dumping my clothes on the floor, then turned on the shower.

I looked over my body front and back in the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. I was really sexy – there were no two ways about that – but it still felt weird to actually look like this myself. As a woman I was shapely rather than stick thin but not fat. I could get a couple of fingers full of flesh at my waist and I turned my nose up at it. I missed my muscles.

It crossed my mind to go and fetch the ring; change back into a man: not to go out or do anything special but just to relax as. I had no plan to stay that way at all but it seemed harmless to change back for another few hours.

But I was being silly. I was a woman. I’d been born a woman. This was who I was meant to be. I was already worried the change was affecting me too much. This was just a further example. It wasn’t right that I shouldn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I had to ride it out. The oddity of it would wear off in time, surely.

I untied my hair. It flopped into a pool on my shoulders leaving absolutely no doubt as to my sexual identity (if my naked form wasn’t enough). I gathered it up into a fist and held it in front of my face. I wondered if I should maybe make an appointment at the hairdresser for the next day. I fancied a more cropped style; maybe a pixie cut, something not so flouncy.

I decided to call first thing in the morning. It was too late now.

Smiling mischievously I lifted and pushed my boobs together, like the way the cleavage looked. The sight of it as well as the sensations of hands round my breasts gave me a pleasant tingle in my nether regions.

I chuckled and shook my head then climbed into the shower.

After I’d got clean I came out and went back through to the bedroom with a towel round my waist, cursing my awful long hair and how wet it was.

The wardrobe still had a mix of men and women’s clothes. I ran my fingers down the sleeves of one of the men’s suits wistfully the looked for something to put on. I felt uncomfortable enough in this body. The last thing I wanted was to put on some flouncy revealing outfit. In the end I took some tracksuit bottoms and a chequered shirt from the Geoff side of the wardrobe. They’d be far better to relax in than something girly.

I tied my hair up again, imagining again what I’d look like with it cut short. I ran my fingers over my chin, missing my goatee, then wandered downstairs. I grabbed a beer from the fridge and went through to the lounge, swigging it out of the can. Half way down the can I stopped drinking and gave a loud belch. That hit the spot.

The doorbell rang as I went to sit down, a car magazine in my hand.

I went through to answer it but paused in the hallway when I saw the ring on the table. I went over and took it up, wondering if I should put it on, then instead, slipped it into my pocket and opened the door.

And looked right up into the face of Rasheed.